Dear Safta Haya, (Dress 118)

Dearest Safta (Grandmother in Hebrew),

It's strange, I only see you every ten years- and yet I feel I know you. We're remarkably similar, you and I- Our love of making things, of textures, and most particularly, of scent. A personal obsession of mine, the art of perfume and the chemistry of scent. Since reading The Emporor of Scent, by Chandler Burr i've been entranced by the collective power of the aesthetic and aromatic that is a flacon of perfume, and it's contents. You have a collection of old perfume bottles, mainly empty- for practicing your glass painting on.

When I was in Israel you gave me a half-full bottle of J'Adore, you said my grandfather (who passed away ten years ago) gave it to you. For all that you love it you said it is too subtle for you, too gentle- strange, for a woman of such delicacy, you look like Jackie Kennedy in the photos I have from my mother's childhood.

You handed me this beautiful little golden bottle, the gold colouring on the wire of the neck faded with age, and, wrapped in silk scarves i'd bought in Israel, it came all the way across the sea with me. And now, when I need to be reminded, soft clouds of pearly scent surround me.

Today's dress is corset-topped, wrapped in an even layer of bronze wire, the ends of which are bent over tiny silver beads, the back of the corset laced with silver ribbon. The skirts are navy silk, three layers, edged with the same silver ribbon used for lacing.

All my love,
IP.
P.S. Today is DAY 100! We've made it! Happiness and Delight! Rar.